


Best of Sons and Best of Wishes (Draft)

by SizzlerSunflower



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Foreshadowing, Gen, Ghost! Philip, Post-Death (Philip)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 09:51:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15140537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SizzlerSunflower/pseuds/SizzlerSunflower
Summary: Alexander and Eliza's family was broken, but Alex is picking up the pieces. With seldom hours left in the night, he refuses to give up now. A late night visit causes memories to surface one last time.





	1. Since You Left

His pen swiftly spat words onto his paper, determined to express every phrase (physically or figuratively) into his currently unfinished task. This man wasn't exactly an insomniac, though he refused to sleep unless his project was at least adequate or near perfect. His nightly, gravitational demons coached on his unbalanced mentality most every moment since.. recent events. It was quiet moments like these that they would come to reek havoc.

Since this was usually his daily and nightly routine, he was too often reminded by his wife that he worked himself half-to-death. In reply, the man would respond by complaining about his lack of time: a common phrase that was often dubbed to the name 'Hamilton' by coworkers and family friends. But with his political position in government, a predicament of this magnitude would be common. Thankfully, his son was just as stubborn as he. 

Stepping around their home, the eldest son, Philip, carried a lantern and carefully crept on the Hamilton's household floorboards; the ground beneath him creaking at every other one of his footsteps. His father's study was a good distance away, but it was close enough. Philip's mother was already asleep by eight, so it would be an almost easy task to accomplish now. Philip was a patient and knowledgeable child, but he too eventually became tired of waiting. So, to improvise, he created a game of counting taught by Eliza to occupy himself. 

First step. 

_Un._  

Second. 

_Deux_. 

Third, fourth.. 

_Trois, quarte.._

Fifth, sixth, seventh..

_Cinq, six, sept.._

Philip motioned to a stop at the next number. A feeling of grief spread through him suddenly, a feeling he couldn't quite shake. How could he explain the happenings of late, why he had gone? How would his father react?

"Philip?" Alexander asked, a puzzled expression printed on his face. The young boy stumbled slightly, hearing the curiosity and concern in his father's voice. 'Play it cool, you don't want to scare him' He thought to himself. "Oh, papa, you're up." Alex nodded, slowly taking in his son's features. His appearance was closer to his childhood years, but all in all, every detail was the exact same.  His smile, his voice, even his innocent habits. Something at the back of his head prodded a cold feeling, but he decided not to dwell on it, after all it was probably just a late night chill. Glancing back to his work, he decided on playing along with his son's strange late night antics. "Aren't you sleepy?" 

Philip shook his head, strolling into the room. "Not at all! Aren't you?"  

Alex imitated his son, shaking his head. "Too much to do. You should sleep while it's early, you'll mother will be worried sick if you don't get enough of it." 

Philip frowned, walking over to his father's desk. "What are you writing about?"

"It's.. For something tomorrow." 

"What's happening tomorrow?"  

"Something important." This Hamilton sure was chatty, that much was true.

"Then can I help? You write non-stop papa, I know I could write a letter for you or.. somethin'." He yawned, rubbing his tired eyes. The innocent remark couldn't help but make his father chuckle to himself. "Oh really? Well, it's a little too late for-" 

"I can't sleep until I'm satisfied!"  

A chill crawled up Alex's spine. Philip was certainly like his father, unrelenting and determined. Unfortunately, that meant his son's efforts would not be deterred. He sighed forced a slight smile, sitting up. Why push away unexpected company? "I can't say no to that." 

"So I can stay up with you?" 

"Yes." 

"Promise?" He raised a brow, hesitantly.

"Promise."  

Before his father could change his mind, Philip hastened over to a nearby stool and pushed it near his father's occupied seat. After Philip shuffled a few times for comfort, Alex was brought back to his writing prompt. He was about 1/3 of the way through it, but he just couldn't focus. How could he, when the child beside him was currently taunting him? Pretended to be someone that had been gone- lost, for more than recent. Its motives were unclear, whatever it was. If he, it, was his son- no, Alex would not entertain the idea. It was impossible, and that was the bottom line. "Philip." He said, looking up from his work through his reading glasses. The child perked up at his name, blinking to register it properly. "Yes, papa?" If he wanted it gone, he'd have to believe it wasn't real.

"What is the date today?" Philip visibly tensed, looking downwards toward the floor. "W-why do you ask-" He attempted to respond, but the man cut him off as his voice rose in tone despite his whispering. "Who are you really?" Alex interrogated. The boy stuttered awkwardly, but no words came out. He closed his mouth and sighed, then tried again. "Listen, I-" While he tried to get off his seat in explanation, his anxiousness got the better of him and he stumbled.

In an instant, the stool Philip was sitting on had toppled over and the boy was on the floor- had he slipped off? Or, rather, he fell _through_ it. Whatever was the case, Philip rubbed his head in repetitive motions. He hadn't disappeared like Alex had hoped, no, now he only lingered. He fell _through_ a stool, for God's sakes! Alex stood up in shock to try and assist him, putting a hand on the child's shoulder while he got on one knee. As soon as the contact was made, a blinding light shone from Philip's current position that lit up the room entirely. The man used his elbow to deflect the sudden glare, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. When he felt the light dim shortly afterwards, he lowered his arm to meet eyes with someone much taller. It was Philip, an older version that looked approximately 19 years of age or younger. Now that he was closer, he looked more intently at the young man: 

He.. it, wasn't organic, as he could see the mist-like particles moving throughout him. Its eyes were the tint of Larimar- a stone he'd remembered from his home. But his gaze was as cold as a predator's, like a haunting phantom. Whatever god he had disquieted, they had cursed the man with an unfathomable hallucination. He had seen many throughout the passing months, but none were this.. 'persistent'. Was its goal to drive him to insanity? Surely, it was working. A gasp escaped his lips, and he retracted his hand from the boy's shoulder while he backed up and away from him. When the apparition tried to close the distance and shush him, the man moved farther until his back was against a wall. The man couldn't stop his increasing heartbeat, the quickness of his chest inflating and deflating; Alex couldn't fathom what was currently happening. Why was this happening? _Why_ was this.. this, thing, here? Why now?

Philip looked just as shocked, but more concerned of his father's emotion. What had changed that frightened him (besides the dramatic light)? He stood his ground and glanced at the mirror on a nearby wall, taking in his new form. Dragging a hand to touch the top of his cheek, he looked closer at himself. Everything was the same, except for his eyes. They were blue, comparable to the color of ice- 'like uptown snow in winter time', he imagined. His other hand roamed down his abdomen, tracing a particularly dense spot near his hip. The same for his arm, a foggy memory that would normally promote hazy flashbacks. However, there were more important matters to dwell on than his own well being.

Like nearing a wounded animal, Philip turned back towards his father and cautiously approached the man pressed against the wall. "Pops.." He spoke and his voice cracked slightly, attempting to shush his father's shaken form. At the sound of his name, Alex flinched but didn't break eye contact. Philip took smaller steps, and continued his tread to the other side of the room. He wasn't sure what the man was thinking; Philip had so many things to say, to do, but how could he? How would you react if you saw a ghost? If your son was standing in front of you, alive- well, not 'alive', but 'awake'. Philip was aware that he would change form from now and again, but not what triggered it. And despite that knowledge, he still had questions about himself; how was he here, if that were true? Neither of them were completely educated on the subject.

Philip was less than a foot away now, holding his hands upward in surrender to gradually sit on the floor indian-style while still making eye contact. He gave Alex a sympathetic, forced smile. Surely, he could trust his son despite the little scare. He slid his hand on the wooden floor, grasping the man's palm to reassure him. Alex's expression tensed and soon softened, and his breathing slowed by a small amount. It seemed as though he was still hesitant, but there was still hope in convincing. He tried to speak, but his son nodded his head, answering his question without words. "I'm here." Philip whispered, and grinned a genuine smile. He could feel his heart in his throat, and it was a good feeling. Alex squeezed his palm, and despite his son's wishes he spoke almost inaudibly: "My son." Philip's face contorted after a whimper, and soon he was gathering his father into a hug. Alexander surrendered to the embrace, rubbing circles on the young man's back. "Papa, i'm sorry." He sobbed into his father's shoulder, resting his hands on his back while Alex rocked them back and forth. He could tell this was going to be a long night. "I didn't mean to leave you, and, and-" "I know, I know." Alex shushed Philip as they rocked, holding the back of his head. "She prob'ly cried, and cried.."  His father shook his head sadly, chuckling shortly as he started to hum. "And I thought I was so smart.."


	2. To Your Inconvenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Error??

I apologize for the inconvenience, but the full story is finally done! This story realistically was a draft to the full more-than-two-chapter story. The actual thing will be posted hopefully every day before Christmas. Happy reading!  
-SS


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